


The Haunting On Privet Drive

by storyplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Kinda canon, Patronus, severus being a stubborn git as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease
Summary: Voldemort's demise has ushered in a new era of prosperity, but Albus Dumbledore still has many secrets including the whereabouts of baby Potter. Severus, who has sworn to protect the boy until his dying breath, considers this highly inappropriate, but Albus will not yield. 'No matter,' Snape thinks, 'An obstacle, after all, is merely an opportunity to try another way.'





	The Haunting On Privet Drive

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple of pieces of canon that I drew upon to write this piece. First off, there's the fact that a patronus can basically find whoever you send it to, even if you don't know exactly where the recipient is located. The second thing is that even Harry remarks to himself in Deathly Hallows that he had no reason to trust the doe that appeared to him in the forest but somehow knew that it was safe.

 

Petunia Dursley was in hell.

Well, to be more precise, she was pacing back and forth on the rug in the front room of her home on Privet Drive, but for all intents and purposes, the moment she'd opened the front door to her home that crisp November morning intent on retrieving the paper and tripped over the basket containing Harry Potter, she knew that her perfectly normal life would never be perfectly normal ever again. Very briefly, she considered bundling up the babe and running it over to her neighbor's house, but then she saw familiar script on the envelope and knew, with a terrible sinking sensation, that Albus Dumbledore was not one to be deceived. He would probably send one of those horrible red screaming letters that Lily had received one summer when she'd stolen Marlene's boyfriend. Vernon would leave her, take Dudley, and she'd be all alone with this...this—

" _Brat_ ," she'd said aloud, and then Harry had scrunched his nose at her, then sneezed. A small shower of sparks poured out of his nostrils, and Petunia shrieked, bundling him up and running back inside before anyone could see.

'Perhaps it was all a mistake,' she thought.

Then she read the letter.

Petunia sank onto the couch, her face pale as she clutched the paper.

Her sister... _dead_...no, it  _couldn't_  be...Lily was...she was young, full of vitality.

Harry interrupted her thoughts with a grumpy noise and Petunia wrinkled her nose at the sour smell coming from his nappy.

She folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her apron pocket, then lifted Harry and walked him to the changing table for a much-needed change.

It was only  _normal_ , after all.

* * *

None of the Dursleys were happy with the addition of young Harry Potter to the family. However, Vernon had been pleased when a monthly cheque began to show up to pay for the expenses related to Harry's care. Petunia, on the other hand, had her hands full with two toddlers, and it didn't help that Harry would sometimes appear to teleport randomly to places that he shouldn't be able to reach or set things on fire accidentally with an ill-timed sneeze, and once he somehow made the kitchen window disappear altogether. Vernon had not been happy about the cost to replace it.

Eventually, it got to the point that Petunia was certain every unusual thing that happened around the house was Harry's fault, regardless of whether it could even possibly be his doing.

The nights, though, were the worst. Petunia had begrudgingly placed an old, second-hand crib that her parents had used on both herself and Lily in the spare room. Originally, it had been Vernon's home office, but had simply become a junk room once it became clear that Vernon did not need a home office at all because there were no employees there for him to yell at.

Petunia would always check in on the children before she went to bed each night; Dudley because he would often wake and require a glass of warm milk and cuddles, and Harry because Petunia was certain the boy would get up to some sort of mischief.

It didn't happen every night, but when it did, Petunia would stand by the door and watch what was happening inside. At first, she'd hoped that it was something that would take the boy away for good. Lily had told Petunia about the dementors, after all, and Petunia was certain that Harry was just the same sort of no-account troublemaker as his father. But she could tell by the bluish glow that whatever creature had come to visit Harry Potter was nothing like the foul creatures Lily had described. The spirit, for it seemed to be spirit shaped, curled around Harry's head, and seemed to nestle there for a long moment before fading away.

The next time, the glowing being appeared to be walking on four, long legs. Petunia's hair stood on end as the thing flew through the window and sat near Harry's head, whispering something nearly incoherent. She understood the tone, though. It was a comforting, motherly sort of sound, almost exactly like the voice she would coo to Dudley when he was falling asleep in her arms. Harry stirred in his sleep but did not wake, and before long, the glowing creature and its soft murmur faded away.

Petunia thought of sending a letter to Dumbledore and asking him to stop sending the creature, for she was certain he must be involved, but then she thought better of it. The less she interacted with  _that freakish world_ , the better.

The next time the being visited, Petunia could see that it wasn't just a glowing shape with strangely long legs. It had grown, too, and she could see that it was clearly the shape of a doe. The doe's long ears twitched ever so slightly and she stood almost proudly, her neck resting on the bar of the crib as she stretched over to rest her glowing nose against Harry's forehead.

Petunia could feel her fingers digging into the doorframe. She'd forgotten before. Lily...Lily had done something similar. What was it? A Patty? A Patron? Petunia couldn't recall the stupid name it had had in the books Lily was studying but she would never forget the moment that Lily had produced a doe from the tip of her wand to their parent's delight and Petunia's unending jealousy. A cold feeling rose up Petunia's spine.

She had been right, after all. It  _was_  a ghost.

The doe whispered something to Harry, nuzzled his cheek once, then disappeared. Petunia swore to herself that she wouldn't stand by that door and see that horrible vision ever again.

But the next night, she stood by the door again. Nothing came, but she stood there all the same. She became obsessed, fearing that she might miss the vision. Though she would never admit it to herself, she missed her sister terribly, and the sight of the doe brought her a sense of calm along with the shivers.

A full month passed before it came again.

"Harry," said the doe in a whispery, silvery voice, once it had floated up and curled around the dozing boy. "Your mother loves you. Now and forever. But until you can see her again, I will stay with you for a time."

Harry turned in his sleep, a soft smile tugging up his tiny lips, and Petunia clutched at her chest, biting back bitter tears. Why did this have to happen to her? Why did she have to always be adjacent to the wonder of magic? Why would it never be  _hers_  to make?

Slowly, she slipped the door open and stepped into the room. A floorboard creaked. The deer's head lifted, ears swiveling with warning, and its eyes seemed to bore through Petunia's skull.

Then, without any warning, it vanished.

Petunia let out a small scream, which woke Harry, of course, and Petunia finally picked up the small boy and consoled him. In the dark, the weight against her chest and the soft baby smell of him reminded her that regardless of her feelings for her sister, it was not the boy's fault. She couldn't let Vernon see; couldn't let her Dudders want for anything, but at night, it was different.

_The witching hour_.

Petunia supposed that if she could not sleep, she could at least give the boy something in the way of love, even though her heart was still hard and bitter.

"A mother after dark," Petunia said softly, tearing up as Harry wrapped his hand tightly around her finger and began to doze.

Harry learned fast. He was quiet but wakeful when she would come to his room. They would play quiet games and she would read softly to him until he fell asleep. His sleep schedule changed and he began to sleep during the days, which made him an easy child, and she soon forgot her night persona much like she often forgot the moon in the daylight.

But she did clean the room more fastidiously after that night and carted the excess junk up to the attic, citing the dust and danger that Dudley might encounter if he were to crawl into the room accidentally. Harry was given a teddy bear to hold and a few of Dudley's old toys that he no longer played with. And at night, she would come and set Harry down on the carpet to play with blocks and they waited for the potential sound of soft, glowing hooves.

A testament to the existence of magic. Proof that she could have a little magic in her ordinary life.

* * *

"Tell me where the boy is, Albus!" Severus shouted, his voice growing nearly hysterical.

"He is safe, Severus. That is all you need to worry about," Albus replied, reaching out to pat Severus' shoulder.

Severus jerked back, snarling. "How  _dare_  you take that patronizing tone?! You told me that he would be safe! The only way to keep him safe is to keep him where we can keep an eye on him! Surely you aren't so naive as to think that the Dark Lord's followers are going to lie low and let the child grow up! They will  _find_  him and then they will  _kill_  him!"

Severus had grabbed Albus by the front of his robes at this point, but the older wizard merely looked over the tops of his half moon glasses with an unimpressed, slightly annoyed look.

"You must work on controlling your emotions, Severus. I have told you that the boy is safe, and that includes safety from rogue Death Eaters. It is the truth. That is all that you need to know for now."

Severus let the Headmaster go and stepped backwards, then began to pace. "You have no right. I have promised to protect the boy, and I cannot do that if I  _don't know where he is_!"

"Oh, Severus..." Albus took off his glasses and polished them slowly, his breath more of a sigh than an exhale. "When I told you that you must protect the boy, I meant that you would be of great use once he is of age to attend Hogwarts."

"But...but...but…!" Severus sputtered, raising his hands and curling his fingers to the sky like the curved clawed branches of the bare trees nearby. "He is barely a  _child_! How can I know that he is safe if I cannot keep an eye on him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "And  _what_ , exactly, would you do with a child? With  _Lily's_  child? You can barely handle when Hagrid's new puppy slobbers on your shoes at suppertime. Are you certain you'd be able to handle a dirty nappy?"

"I dared to betray the most fearsome dark lord in nearly a hundred years!" Severus snarled back. "Changing a nappy doesn't frighten me in the least!"

"There's also the sleepless nights, and the whining, and the crying...and potty training…" Albus trailed off, his eyes sparkling with mirth, as though he were already imagining Severus attempting such things.

Severus took a step back, his shoulders drooping as he dropped his hands. "The daily minutiae of his care isn't the point, Albus, and you know it."

"Is that so, Severus?" Albus stroked his beard. "In any case, you must admit that the fewer people who know where he is, the safer he will be."

"So, I suppose I cannot even go to where he is? To ensure that you haven't spun a yarn and a half by claiming the tot survived when...when—" Severus looked away, his left arm slung across his stomach, his quivering fingers digging into the fabric of his robes on his right arm as if trying to hold back a cry of anguish.

"When she could not?" Albus finished.

Severus nodded, his eyes still on his shoes.

"Sadly, no." Albus placed a hand on Severus' shoulder again, and this time Severus seemed to lose the strength to shake the touch away. He slumped, the fight taken out of him. "You must trust me, Severus. If the boy didn't live, then I would not be nearly as cavalier about our shared knowledge that Voldemort will return, now would I?"

"I...suppose not…" Severus' voice wavered slightly, unconvinced.

Just then, an owl flew through the window of Dumbledore's office and alighted on Fawkes' perch. The gold Ministry seal marked it as very important indeed, and Severus could have sworn that he heard Dumbledore sigh with relief. "I must attend to this matter, Severus. I trust you can find your way out."

Severus balled his fists and nodded curtly, then turned and stomped angrily from the office. He didn't stop stomping his dragonhide boots in fury until he reached the dungeons. It wasn't enough, though. In a fit of rage, he grabbed an innocent phial from one of the tables and hurled it angrily against the wall. It shattered spectacularly, but he was doubled over one of the tables, his hands gripping on the sides as he grit his teeth and tried not to scream, so he didn't have the mental energy to get a vicarious thrill out of his act of violence.

_That infuriating old doddering fool!_

It took him many long minutes of controlling his breathing until he finally felt grounded enough to stand and use his wand to fix the mess he'd made. It seemed like such a silly thing—he'd only made more work for himself, and in that moment he hated Albus for being right.

"That damned bastard...but I must learn to control my emotions," he grit out.

It was a fairly routine evening— he finished grading the student essays (they were, predictably, terrible), he checked on his Slytherin students, gave a few detentions to straggling students who knew better than to straggle, and finally retired for the evening with a cuppa and a new book.

It was only after he realized that he'd read the same line over five times in a row without comprehending its meaning that he finally put down the book and took a midnight stroll to the library. Madam Pince had given him a key to access the stacks whenever he wanted to, so he wasn't worried about being admonished by her. In all honesty, even though most people thought the library was creepy in the dark, especially by wandlight, Severus appreciated the silence and the comforting scent of the books. Knowing that he was absolutely alone was all the more satisfying.

It took him a long time, but he finally found the book that he was looking for. Normally, Severus wasn't the biggest fan of charms, preferring hexes and jinxes, as they were easier to mold and change to fit his needs, but this was different.

He was aware that a number of the core members in the Order of the Phoenix members knew how to cast a patronus. It could send important messages to its intended recipient without worrying about it being intercepted, and if one was going to be part of a secret freedom fighting organization, that sort of thing was dead useful.

Severus had never learned to use one for a number of reasons, but the main one had to do with what would happen if a Dark wizard or witch were to attempt to cast the spell. He'd read enough horror stories to know it was a terrible idea, unless he ever found himself in the mood to be eaten alive by a river of maggots.

The mere thought turned Severus' stomach.

Still, he had to try. It was the only way he could think of that made sense. A patronus would be able to find Lily's son, even if Severus did not know where he was. Unless Dumbledore had a change of heart (which Severus greatly doubted), it would be up to Severus to determine if he truly was reformed enough not to be considered Dark any longer. The main thing that worried him was the positive memory needed to fuel the charm. Severus didn't have many positive moments that he could draw upon from his life, and many of them were tainted by Dark magic or negative moments. Even his thoughts of Lily often darkened due to his own hand in the dissolution of their friendship, and his bitterness at her choosing to be with the boy who'd made his life miserable over the years they'd been at school. He thought of his mother— there were fleeting moments he could remember, but he'd been very young, and none of them fully satisfied the requirements of the charm.

Severus slept restlessly that night and awoke to a bed covered in the open book, parchment covered in spidery-handwriting, and a Muggle ballpoint pen he'd purchased specifically for these sorts of situations (he'd spilled inkwells in his bed more than he'd like to admit, and a ballpoint pen was the easiest way to solve this problem).

His dreams had been full of snatches of half-memories and pleading green eyes filling with anger and hurt. He didn't need to be a Divination professor to know that he wasn't coping well with Lily's death.

"Lily," he said, his soft voice filling the air. "Oh, if only you were here and I were not."

But saying it didn't make it true, and Severus begrudgingly got ready to teach his first class of the day.

* * *

That night, Severus continued his research and figured out a few things about the patronus charm that seemed promising. First off, the sender could provide a message to their patronus by adding a second charm to the spell, but it seemed like this ability was stackable. Ostensibly, one could add on as many charms as one wanted. Severus pulled another book from his personal library on vision charms and then grabbed one of his personal notebooks to confirm.

"It will be rudimentary if it works at all," he remarked, as he noted his findings, "but it should allow for me to at least capture an image of the boy and prove that he is alive."

But that did not solve the problem of the happy memory. He knew he couldn't fabricate it, nor could he use one that was insufficiently happy, lest he share the fate of any Dark magic-user foolish enough to try the patronus charm.

"Hagrid," he asked later that evening at supper, for the half-giant would take his words at face value, and he drew comfort from that fact, "if you needed to remember something important, how do you think you would go about doing it?"

"Well," Hagrid took a bite of pheasant (consisting of nearly an entire pheasant carcass) and gulped it down, "I'd probably 'ave a little meditation session, Professor."

"Do you engage in... _meditation_  often?" Severus hid a smile behind his napkin as he dabbed at his lips. Hagrid was one of the only other staff members who referred to him with honorifics, and this made him all that more endearing to the dour Potions master. He'd heard of meditation before, of course, but he would not have pegged Hagrid as one of its disciples.

"A course!" Hagrid laughed, and shook the table as he did so. "Yer welcome ta tag along if yeh want. I 'ave a book my Da gave me, too. I know yeh'd take good care of it if'n yeh were ta borrow it."

"You know, I might take you up on that, Hagrid," Severus mused.

It took him several days to work up the courage to seek out the half-giant but he quickly found himself ushered inside to sit cross-legged on a hand-woven mat that lay on the floor of Hagrid's hut. Surprisingly, Hagrid was actually a very good teacher, and Severus was struck by the thought that if the man could stop fawning over deadly creatures and treating them like harmless puppies, he very well could pass as a decent professor.

Feeling calmer, Hagrid insisted that Severus borrow his book on meditation and Severus left feeling optimistic for the first time in months.

It was two weeks later that he finally had a breakthrough.

The memory was old, but the strength of it nearly took his breath away. Severus was quite thankful that he was sitting on the stone floor of his quarters, or he might have fallen over.

_Severus had been sitting on a hill looking up at the sky, which was filled with all manner of fluffy clouds. Lily lay beside him, their hands were linked._

" _I think that one looks like a clown, don't you, Sev?" Lily had asked. Severus had squeezed her hand._

" _Yeah," he said, even though he couldn't see a clown._

" _You know, I wish I could be up there too.," Lily said wistfully. "When we got to Hogwarts will we learn to fly?"_

" _On a broom, maybe," Severus said, his voice dubious. He highly doubted his mum had the money or the inclination to get him a broom._

" _Hmph, I want to fly with just my magic," Lily said, wrinkling her nose._

" _Well...I bet if anyone could, it would be you," Severus said appreciatively._

" _Why don't we try it?" Lily asked, her expression somewhat cheeky._

" _What? N-now?" Severus stuttered._

" _Of course, now! You said that we wouldn't be in trouble," Lily said, and wiggled her eyebrows._

_They sat up, and turned to face each other. Lily took Severus' other hand and they stared into one another's eyes. Severus blushed but forced himself to meet her gaze._

" _We can do it," she said, grinning. "Just think of flying."_

_Severus tried to reach out for the part of him that was energy made form and felt a tingling hum in his hands as Lily scrunched her eyebrows in concentration. Their hair began to fly around them in an invisible wind, and a thrill ran through him. In the end, they only managed to lift off of the ground by a few inches, but when they lost their focus and tumbled into a laughing heap, they both knew that this was truly what magic was all about. Creating. Innovating. Doing something that nobody has ever done before. The persistent gloom that seemed to follow him like a shroud was gone, replaced with a joy that threatened to split him in two._

"I have to try," Severus said to himself as he pulled himself from his reverie.

He pictured the joy of the memory, and slowly a sensation like threads of light began to gather deep inside of his chest. The sensation built to a roar within him until he felt as though he might burst. And then, traveling up his arm into his wand like a bolt of lightning, his patronus burst from the tip, shining white and...formless.

Severus, whose shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath at the enormity of his effort, was not amused.

Still, it hovered patiently next to him as though waiting instruction.

Severus felt stupid talking to the damned thing, but he grit his teeth and summoned the words.

"Find Harry Potter," he said, "Reassure him...let him know how much his mother loved him, and that he will always be protected."

The glowing mass seemed to shiver as it accepted the instructions, then it sped off into the sky.

Severus frowned. It wasn't nearly good enough. He needed to perfect his recall of the memory.

* * *

The Pensieve in Dumbledore's office was hard to access without the old coot knowing about it. However, Severus knew for a fact that the old man was due at the Wizengamot and various Ministry  _appointments_  (certainly the old man didn't honestly think that he was hiding his relationship with Fudge from anyone, for how brazenly they paraded around together despite Fudge still being married!), so he was regularly gone from the castle on Sundays. Filch was an unwitting ally in Severus' plans, as the man resented the Headmaster for being so lax on the children and was a right old braggart after a couple of drinks. This was how Severus had learned about one of the old secret passages up to the Headmaster's office. The old caretaker had admitted that once in awhile he'd used the passage to go up and take a nip of the Headmaster's stores of firewhisky when the old goat was otherwise engaged. Severus suspected that it happened more often than the old caretaker let on, but he didn't particularly care about Argus' drinking problem. He was a grown man, after all.

When he was certain Albus had left the school grounds, Severus snuck into the Headmaster's office. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen and Severus quickly pulled the memory from his head with a wince. He dove into it, observing and absorbing every part of it with methodical precision.

Then, he tried again. Again, just a wisp, but somewhat more substantial. Severus added a message and sent it to the boy. It returned to him with the sound of a baby's coo, but there was nothing more to it, and again he grew frustrated.

So again, he snuck in and revisited the potion, pulling the positive memory into his mind until every crevice was mapped out and each emotion tied into it. He began to meditate, pulling that butterfly warmth into his belly and forcing himself to savor it despite his instincts telling him that he was being an utter sentimental fool. Soon, over time, the emotion and the memory welled up with such strength and force that Severus couldn't help but smile after casting his patronus; a smile that lingered on his lips for hours. Over time, too, his control over the apparition became more pronounced. Its head developed twitching ears and a long snout, but he couldn't tell what it was, not really, until one night when he cast the charm and a doe sprang from the tip of his wand and cantered down to the end of his bedroom and then turned back, coming to a halt in front of him and swiveling her long ears.

Severus stumbled back and sat hard on the corner of his bed.  _So this….this was…_

Lily had shown him once...she'd not quite achieved the full corporeal patronus yet, but he'd seen that exact gait before and those ears….that tail, flicking at phantom flies…

"A ghost," he said aloud, and the doe stomped her hoof as though contesting his assessment.

He felt silly, then. This was no ghost. It was his own magic, as he could attest to from weeks of grueling work. He ordered the doe to climb onto the table, and the apparition complied immediately. He asked her to spin in a circle, and she did so. When he sent her to the Potter child that night, he waited for her return and when she did, he could hear a snippet of someone singing with Harry as he clapped his hands and squealed with delight.

So. The boy was being cared for. Severus set about to writing up notes on his patronus and her new abilities, as well as the information she'd brought to him. Albus could never know— the notes were hidden in charmed cypher and written in invisible ink. It was intriguing to see what paces he could run his patronus through. Not much was known about the extent of their function. Not to be outdone, Severus considered the possibilities. After all, he was nothing if not thorough.

It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

 


End file.
